I can’t get out of my own head. My nerves are shot. A jog through the desolate, snowy streets in the late afternoon does nothing to burn off my excess energy, so I decide it’s best to add alcohol into the mix. Before my shower, I pop the cork on a bottle of red wine my mom brought back from her most recent buying trip. The glass of Cabernet goes down a little too quick, so I convince myself it was a light pour. A second glass seems necessary. Thankfully, it does the trick. By the time I sit down in front of my makeup vanity, I feel cool as a cucumber.

  Once I’ve done a perfect no-makeup makeup look, I layer my daring La Perla lingerie set underneath a black slip dress that boasts a shorter-than-short hemline. I’m about to go in for more wine when the chime by my door goes off.

  Hudson’s right on time. I clear him with the doorman and then I wait at my door, swallowing down my last-minute jitters as best as possible before I hear footsteps out in the hallway. He doesn’t get the chance to knock before I fling the door open.

  He’s wearing jeans.

  Oh my god, I did not anticipate this curveball.

  “Scarlett?”

  I don’t even answer him. He’s wearing dark-wash denim and these beat-up brown boots, a black t-shirt, and a Cubs jacket. I barely resist the squeak of pleasure that wants to erupt out of me. He’s glorious!

  “You’re being rude.”

  His tone implies he’s teasing, but I don’t even have the good grace to move aside and let him in. I’m so flabbergasted.

  “I don’t care,” I tell him. My eyes zero in on his body. “You look…different.”

  “So do you. Now invite me in.”

  “Okay, but be forewarned, I will be checking out your butt when you walk by me.”

  My remark doesn’t even faze him; he’s used to me by now.

  He doesn’t wait for the formal invitation (realizing it’s never going to come) and brushes past me—overwhelming me with the heavenly scent of his cologne—and then he walks into my apartment like he’s been here a hundred times.

  “I like your place.”

  “Thanks, I cleaned it all day. I didn’t want you to think I actually live here, I guess. That candle is new. The throw blanket too.” I step toward him and offer to take his jacket. He yanks it off in that sexy gruff guy way. Like can they not just remove a garment gently? With care? Apparently not.

  I take his jacket to the hall closet, holding it high enough that I can steal another whiff of his cologne, just as I catch Moira hopping down from her perch on the windowsill. I issue an introduction-slash-warning: “That’s Moira, she’ll bite your hand off.”

  A loud, sassy rawr bookends my words, and though my back is turned, I imagine Hudson just barely flinching back in time. When I look to confirm this—expecting blood and carnage, fingers hanging by stringy ligaments—I find that Moira has LAID DOWN ON HER BACK and EXPOSED her fleshy pink BELLY to him. She’s purring! I didn’t think she knew how to purr. I thought the happiest feeling she was capable of was simmering disdain.

  She squirms and bats her paws at him playfully. She is FLIRTING with him. In my apartment!

  He bends down and scoops her up into his strong arms. “She’s sweet.”

  My eye twitches.

  I’ve never once been able to gently hold Moira like he is. If I have to get close to her for some reason, like to take her for a vet visit, it’s an entire half-day ordeal to get her in her carrier. I start with treats that never work, then I go for the full-on chase-down method that ends with my arms being scratched raw and my nerves frayed and frazzled.

  “She’s a wild beast,” I assure him.

  “Really?” He nuzzles his nose against hers, and I just blink at them wondering if Moira somehow knows exactly what she’s doing trying to steal my man.

  Eventually, after they’re done bonding, he sets her down and she winds through his legs before hissing at me as she walks back to her window of choice.

  “Can I get you a drink?” I ask him. “Water? Soda? Iced tea? Hard liquor? A seltzer?”

  He’s still looking around my apartment. “Water’s fine. Is this you?”

  I’ve already started to head toward the kitchen island so I can’t be sure which framed photo he’s pointing to on the TV console. “Is it the one where I’m missing my two front teeth?”

  “Yeah, and your hair’s all tangled.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, that was the day after Halloween and I was hopped up on ten different types of sugar. Okay here’s your water. Take it and sit down and we’ll start.”

  He turns to me, entirely too amused. “We don’t actually have to do this. In fact, we really shouldn’t.”

  Rejection washes over me so swiftly it feels like a sucker punch.

  “You don’t want to?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hudson

  I wipe a hand down my face, trying and failing to come up with the right words here. Do I want to seduce and have my wicked way with Scarlett? Uh, yeah, would love to, actually. Thanks for asking.

  Should I be doing this, though? Now that’s the real question.

  I know I’ve already agreed to it and I’m here, in her apartment, but it’s not too late to talk some sense into her. She’s standing in front of me brimming with pure innocence. She doesn’t even have the capacity to mask her hurt over thinking I’m rejecting her.

  “I can’t be the best person for this. Surely there are a million guys lined up around the block. Here, let’s get you set up with a dating profile. What app do you like?” I’m already holding my hand out like I’m waiting for her to pass me her phone.

  She shakes her head. She’s a lost sad puppy when she tells me, “I can’t. It has to be someone I trust.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to channel some bullshit yoga mindset to conquer the raging desire coursing through my veins. In my current state, my brain mixes up yoga and Yoda so my inner thoughts sound like: Want to fuck her, you do.

  Jesus Christ.

  I look at her again.

  She’s chewing her bottom lip. “This is nothing serious. Okay? This is science.”

  Science, got it.

  Wait, don’t got it. “Explain.”

  She puffs out an exasperated breath. “Don’t ask me to explain! I don’t know. I barely passed my science courses. Just…it doesn’t have to be all that intense, okay? No feelings, no tricky situations. One time. You and me and then”—she snaps her fingers—“it’ll be like nothing ever happened.” I don’t say anything, and she puts her hands on her hips. “People have one-night stands all the time! We can be those people!” Her eyes take on a pleading look. “Can you just pretend I’m someone else for tonight? Not Scarlett Elwood, but a girl you picked up at a bar? A girl you really, really want to sleep with?”

  Yeah, that’s just it. There’s no pretending required, and that’s why this feels a little wrong.

  “You don’t need to do this,” I tell her. “Jasper is—”

  That sentence never makes it to the finish line. Scarlett—knowing full well where I’m headed—decides to take matters into her own hands. She suddenly starts to walk closer and then stops just when her chest barely grazes mine, arches up onto her toes, and kisses me with bold abandon.

  Scarlett.

  In mere seconds, I’m consumed by her taste, by the feel of her pressed against me. My hands reach out for her hips. I gather her close, bunching her silky dress in my fist as she moans. The sweet sound puts fire in my veins. I kiss her back, tilting my head as I band my arms behind her. I don’t know if she planned on her kiss lasting this long, but now neither one of us is retreating.

  I’ve been so good when it comes to Scarlett. Fantasies unspool one after another. My attraction to her is undeniable, and now I have her in my arms, her lips on mine. I decide all bets are off. For tonight.

  She presses her hot little body against me. There’s no denying how much I want her. She must realize how easily she winds me up. My hands move from her back down to her hips, lower until I have my palms curved around her ass, hauling her against me as our hips start to move, as we—

  Suddenly she breaks away and pushes me. I realize the couch is at my back just before the back of my legs hit it. I sit while she stands assessing me with red lips.

  “You can’t take over like that,” she chides.

  “What?”

  She’s breathing as hard as I am. Those delicate eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance. “Usually, I’d want that. I would love nothing more than to let you do whatever it is you were about to do to me. It felt amazing, believe me, but I have to know if I can bring a man to his knees, Hudson. That’s what this is all about. You have to let me lead, okay?”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  She throws her hands up. “That’s the whole point! If we have great sex but you’re the one in charge, I won’t have the answer to my question. I’ll just assume you were the reason it was so good.”

  I’m having the hardest time suppressing a laugh. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Let me seduce you.”

  The raging hard-on I’m sporting beneath my zipper must not be evidence enough. I wipe my hand down my face. “Scarlett, you could—”

  She takes a step back and reaches for the strap of her dress. She’s going to make good on her promise, and she only gives me a moment to realize that before she pushes her strap down off her shoulder and the front of her dress dips low enough that I catch a teasing glimpse of black lace lingerie cresting over her left breast.

  Oh.

  My stomach swoops.

  My hands fist into the couch.

  She’s watching me, hungry for my reaction. I don’t try to conceal it. I don’t think I’m savvy enough to mask it anyway. She has to know how much I want her, how much this is killing me.

  She lets her dress hang like that for a suspended moment as I just sit there, admiring her. Then with a shaky hand, she reaches up for her other strap, sliding it over her slender shoulder and letting it slip off before she pushes the top of her dress down to her hips.

  So much of her skin is revealed so suddenly. I want to demand she slow down, let me catch my goddamn breath, but I can’t speak as she slides her dress the rest of the way off, letting it pool in a silky heap at her feet before she steps out of it altogether.

  I haven’t taken a breath in what feels like five minutes. My chest is screaming for air.

  Scarlett’s in nothing but black lace. Her lingerie is delicate and sparse enough that I can see the pink tips of her breasts through the fabric. Even if she hadn’t ordered me to just sit here, I wouldn’t be able to move.

  She’s…exquisite.

  I can’t decide where to look. My gaze roves over her body with hungry abandon. I take in her full breasts over the top of her lingerie, the high cut of her black thong over her hips, her endless legs. A piece of her dark brown hair falls over her shoulder, casting a shadow over part of her face.

  I can feel her nervous energy palpating between us.

  “Am I okay?” she asks timidly.

  I squeeze my eyes closed so I don’t let out a string of expletives. When I think I’ve mostly managed to conquer the worst of my anger with Jasper, I blink my eyes open and look at her again.

  Her gaze is wide and innocent. Her dark lashes frame the sweetest pair of dark brown eyes. Her face could bring me to my knees.

  “Come here.”

  She hesitates as if she’s scared, but when she eventually steps closer, right between my knees, I reach out to skim my hand up the outside of her right thigh, toying with the lace fabric, tugging it up higher until it rests over her hip bone. I swallow as my thumb brushes her skin. It’s so soft she doesn’t feel real.

  “You’re doing it again,” she says with a weak voice.

  Ignoring her, I bring my hand up to smooth it over the contours of her stomach, up higher, skimming her ribs and brushing the outside of her bra.

  This isn’t what a one-night stand is supposed to feel like.

  “Hudson.”

  Her teasing voice breaks me out of my spell, and I look up at her.

  She’s battling a smile. “You’re not supposed to be the one doing the touching.”

  I can hear my pulse roaring in my ears. The way she looks, her body, her heart—she’s so fragile, the gentlest thing I’ve ever held. Everything demands I sit up and take note of her. Fuck the agreement. Fuck her rules. I want to worship her. I want to splay her out on the floor of this apartment and not come up for air until daybreak.

  But I surrender and sit against the back of the couch. I let my hands drop on either side of my thighs and I wait. I gave her my word, and I intend on keeping it, no matter what.

  The humor dies in her expression as she realizes I’m relenting. I’m giving her exactly what she’s asked for, without a fight, and now she doesn’t know what to do with all her new power.

  An order is on the tip of my tongue, but I resist just as she inches closer and—

  “I’m going to sit down, okay? Like this.”

  And then she straddles me on that couch, her knees going to either side of my hips. My hands rise up—I’m about to seat her right where I want her—but I resist the urge and let her settle down onto me the way she wants.

  Turns out she didn’t need my help.

  “Oh.” She flushes when she feels me through my jeans. Then she smiles this delicious little smile I have to kiss away. She responds immediately to my lips on hers, settling down onto me farther, rocking her hips rhythmically. My hands move on their own, gripping her and helping her grind down on me harder. God. I kiss my way down her neck, lower. My lips graze her breast, over the black lace, under it. I suck her into my mouth and her fingers dig into my hair and tug.

  “How am I doing?” she asks between heavy breaths.

  “Scarlett.”

  “Because I can swivel my hips more, or how about—”

  I kiss her again and shut her up. She kisses me back and works her hands down the front of my torso, down under my shirt so she can start to work it up and off me. I have that thing yanked off in a matter of seconds and then her hands are on my skin, wandering over every inch of my chest like she can’t get enough of me.

  “God, you’re all man.”

  I laugh because I’m not quite sure how to take that.

  She smiles and shakes her head. “I just feel like the guys I’ve been with…it’s like they think women want these waxed figurines. I want…” Her eyes widen as she looks at me, looking down at my boxer briefs peeking out over the top of my jeans.

  I’m glad she didn’t finish the sentence. Everything we say tonight will make it that much harder to reset in the morning. It’s why I’m being so quiet. It’s why I’m holding back some.

  For a few minutes on the couch, she’s on top of me, but we’re not kissing. Despite being turned on to the point of pain, we take each other in slowly. She undoes the button on my jeans. I push her hair back behind her ear so I can see the curve of her jaw and her flushed neck. She traces my abs with her pointer finger, getting accustomed to my body. It’s like we know this is our one shot. We better make it count. I want to memorize every inch of her.

  My finger loops underneath the strap of her bra. When she doesn’t protest, I start to peel the black lace away from one breast, so slowly, and a shudder runs through me when I finally tug it all the way off. Her breast is perky and full and begging to be touched.

  I oblige with my hand, then my mouth. Then…my teeth.

  She hisses a curse under her breath and I chuckle and back away. She’s looking at me, utterly incensed, her eyes shining. I can’t just leave her like that, half exposed, so I slide the black lace off her chest completely and only bother to undo the clasp at her back after her bra is already hanging loose around her waist.

  Scarlett’s work clothes don’t do her justice. Even those sports bras she wears to work out don’t truly give the full picture, but now I have it as she sits on top of me, and she’s unbelievable. I can’t keep my hands off her. I cup her breasts and run my thumbs over the tips, getting her worked up. She starts rocking on me again, slowly dragging her panties over my jeans to create friction.

  She wants relief. She’s as desperate as I am. I loop my hands up around her neck, threading my fingers through her hair, and then I bring her mouth down onto mine.

  I want her to come apart like this, like we’re two teenagers in high school, overloaded on hormones and desperate for any release we can get. I want to watch. I break our kiss and take my hands off her, laying them on the back of the couch on either side of me.

  For a moment, she stills. I shake my head. “Keep going.”

  Her nostrils flare and I look down to where her lace thong has slipped to the side, revealing just the barest glimpse of her. I tilt my head as she continues this maddening lap dance and the fabric slips even more. I reach down and help it along, hooking my finger on the left side and pulling it over.

  My gut clenches tight. I shiver with pleasure at the precise moment she decides to be bold. She tips back and touches her hands to my knees, holding herself stable as she continues rocking. I know what this is doing to her. I can feel her shaking. I should be patient, but desire wins out and I have to feel her. I have to know what it’s like to brush my thumb over the center of her thighs, to tease and stroke her. I rub concentric circles as she continues grinding down onto me and then I know the exact moment she tips over the edge—that sharp inhale is followed by an earthquake of pleasure. She can barely contain it, and I don’t let her off easy. I want every last shake and tremble. When her eyes peel open, she looks at me like she’s just woken up from a trance, hotter now than ever.

  Fire blazes in her gaze and she launches forward, kissing me in a frenzy as she lifts herself up so she can tug down my zipper. She pushes the denim down only enough that she can successfully slip her hand down into my boxer briefs, to cup and fist me, pumping up and down as if I’m not about to die from the feel of her hand gripping me.